


No Satisfaction

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Rape, Creepy, Mindwiping, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-12
Updated: 2004-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius can't get no satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Satisfaction

Hermione waits until almost everyone else has gone to bed before she heads upstairs. If anyone asks, she's simply returning some books Professor Lupin's lent her. If anyone asks, she'll say he'd mentioned wanting them back earlier, and she'd forgot to give them to him. Nothing odd about it at all.

But her skin tingles and her heart races; she breathes in shallow pants, still not sure she's read the signals correctly, but willing to take the chance that it is not books she'll be learning from tonight.

When she arrives at the third floor bedroom he occupies -- _third door on the left, past the room where Buckbeak is, can't miss it_ \-- the door is ajar, and a sliver of flickering light paints the floor of the hallway. She knocks and pushes the door open before he responds.

And comes face to face with Sirius, who smells of dog and firewhisky. The smile he's wearing sends a chill down her spine.

"Hermione," he says, inclining his head in what feels more like mockery than courtesy. "You're up late." He leaves the _'and where you don't belong'_ unspoken.

"Sirius," she answers, mentally cursing how breathless she sounds. "Professor Lupin lent me some books and I'm returning them." She puts the books down on top of the chest of drawers.

"I see." The frightening part is, Hermione thinks he actually does. "Remus is an attractive man, don't you think?" he says conversationally, taking a step toward her. She steels herself not to take a step back, and nods. "And I-- well," he laughs with self-mockery, runs long fingers over his gaunt cheeks. "I no longer am."

"That's not true," she manages, though her voice is hoarse. There is something compelling about Sirius, his face a marvel of pureblood hauteur and bone structure even with purple hollows under his eyes and a skeleton too big for his skin.

"Ah," he says, and he takes another step, so that there is little more than six inches between them. "Clever girl." He raises his arm and she forces herself not to flinch, but he just pushes the door closed behind her.

"Sirius?"

"When I was younger, I was gorgeous, you know."

"I've seen pictures," she says, but he keeps talking as if she hasn't said anything at all.

"Yeah, I used to turn heads in the street -- men, women, pureblood and Muggle-born alike, everybody wanted Sirius Black." He slips behind her, puts an elegant hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. He leans down, his lips close to her ear. "But I only ever wanted Moony.

"All I ever wanted was Moony," he repeats, "but I was never enough for him. He got off on it, you know, that people fancied me. Used to go out and meet them, and come home smelling like some other bloke's spunk, some slapper's twat."

She holds very still and says, "Sirius, please stop."

But Sirius is drunk; she can almost taste the firewhisky when he breathes on her, warm air that feels cold as fear against her skin.

"You're a pretty girl," Sirius says, and now the hand on her shoulder moves into her hair, and the other cups her right breast lightly, sending a shiver through her. "Your tits are small, but Remus never was a breast man."

She attempts to pull away, but Sirius's grip on her shoulder tightens painfully. "Be a good girl now, Hermione. Oh, wait. That's not why you came here, is it?" His lips ghost over the shell of her ear. "Came to see Professor Lupin, did you? Has he popped your cherry yet, or are you saving it for Ron?"

"Professor?" Her voice is high, weak, and desperately hopeful as she wrenches her arm out of Sirius's grasp. There's no answer.

Sirius laughs. "I bet he loved teaching at Hogwarts. Dozens of pretty young girls with nice tits and hot cunts, and boys with stiff pricks and tight arses, throwing themselves at him, gagging for it. 'Oh, Professor Lupin, here are your books. Fancy a fuck?'" he mimics her tone almost perfectly.

He's drunk. He must be. She doesn't understand why he's doing this, or where Professor Lupin is, but she obviously can't count on a rescue from that quarter.

"I know you're lonely," she begins desperately, trying to sound sympathetic, surreptitiously eyeing the door.

He laughs again, and there's an edge to it that reminds her of his madness that night in the Shrieking Shack. "I'm _lonely_? Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Sirius," she tries again, but he cuts her off.

"I have Remus now. Did you know, we're fucking. Or we would be, if I could get it up." He grabs her hand, forces it to his groin. "But I can't, you see. Yet another reason to kill Wormtail. Twelve years in Azkaban takes its toll." She jerks away and stumbles back, into the closed door. "So Remus is buggering _me_ , but I, how does your Muggle rock band put it? Oh yeah, I can't get no satisfaction."

"I'm really sorry," she begins; now panic is setting in but she takes a deep breath. He's _Sirius_ , Harry's beloved godfather. He's not going to hurt her, and Professor Lupin would stop him if he were. If Professor Lupin were _here._

"You're sorry? You're _sorry_?" Sirius sounds almost as mad as his mother's portrait, and just as cruel. "Well, thanks ever so, love. That just makes everything all better now, doesn't it?"

"Sirius, stop it." Lupin's voice is cold, and it comes from the shadows at the far end of the room.

 _Thank God._

"Oh, please, Remus. As if you didn't bring her up here so you could fuck her, with me watching."

Hermione gasps at hearing it put so plainly. "Professor?"

"He thinks it'll help me, you see," Sirius continues. "Watching him have it off with someone else. Isn't that right, Moony?"

Soft light flares and she can see Professor Lupin silhouetted in another doorway. _Connecting rooms? A secret passage? Grimmauld Place is full of secrets._

"Yes," Lupin responds evenly, moving toward them, and Hermione blushes hot with anger and shame. "But I think you've ruined it now, Sirius. You always did talk too much."

"Let me go," she snaps, fumbling for her wand and pointing it at them with a trembling hand.

"She's brave," Sirius comments, as if she weren't standing right there. "But then, we knew that."

"I'm leaving now," she says loudly, hand on the doorknob, which turns easily.

Lupin whispers, " _Obliviate_."

 _Warm breath on her skin, strong hands holding her in place, the smell of firewhisky, Sirius and despair. The heat of anger and shame... gone._

Hermione wakes the next morning groggy, but Ginny bounces on her bed, eager to go to St Mungo's to see her father, so Hermione forces herself to alertness with a hot shower and a cup of black coffee.

She shivers when Sirius and Lupin enter the kitchen; the old house is drafty, and she may be catching a chill.

end


End file.
